Chapter 42 Ella
ELLA
“We’re nearly there,” the driver says from the front of the car, and my anxiety is barely appeased. I’m exhausted from nearly twenty hours of travel. We’re running late with a small flight delay, traffic has been terrible, and the memorial is about to start.
Everything about our travel has been more difficult than usual.
We had a different jet and flight crew, and we have a different driver with us today since all of Asher’s staff is at the memorial.
It’s all been made worse by the fact that both Jenkins’s and Flores’s phones have had terrible, basically non-existent service, so we haven’t been able to get any updates or information about the memorial.
All I know is that the memorial celebration is inside the venue, and then there’s an outside procession leading to a statue of Edward that will be revealed.
At least that was the itinerary the last time I checked in on the plans for the event, which was over two months ago.
Needless to say, we’ve been scrambling since we got Asher’s orders, and we aren’t running like the well-oiled machine we usually are.
It’s stressing me the hell out.
I’m already in knots over seeing Asher. What will I say? What will he say? Will we be able to talk after the memorial and figure things out? All these thoughts are overwhelming enough, and running late is only making it worse.
Finally, we pull up to the venue and hurry out of the car.
Jenkins and Flores stay practically pinned to my side as we walk inside.
A sign in the entrance announces the tribute of Edward Alexander Xavier Langford and designates the way to the ballroom, but before we follow the directions, Flores breaks away.
“I’m going to see if I can find Waters and get a rundown of the plans for the procession,” she says. “I don’t like the idea of walking in that crowd without knowing what the plan is first.”
Waters usually patrols outside main event spaces, so he’s typically the easiest security officer to find.
Jenkins nods. “See if he has some extra comms while you’re at it. I’ll be near Ms. Hale’s table.”
Both Jenkins and Flores are uneasy since they don’t have their usual equipment, and I know they’ll both breathe a sigh of relief when they’re back up and running like normal.
“You got it.”
Jenkins and I turn from her and hurry down a long hallway, but just before we enter the ballroom, a burly security officer stops us.
“You’ll both need to step in here for a briefing,” he says in a brusque tone.
“What briefing?” Jenkins asks. “I wasn’t told of any briefings.”
“We’ve had some last-minute changes this morning.”
“Remind me of your name,” Jenkins says, eyeing the man as we follow him into a small room just off the ballroom.
“Can we hurry with this?” I snap. “I can hear the event starting. I don’t want to stroll in late and disrupt it.”
“Taylor,” the security officer says, answering Jenkins. “Mr. Langford hired extra security for the event.”
“What’s the new briefing then, Taylor?” Jenkins asks in a clipped tone.
“Nothing.”
Taylor raises a gun with a suppressor on the end of it and shoots Jenkins between the eyes before Jenkins can respond.
I scream as Jenkins’s body hits the floor.
“Scream again, and I’ll put the next bullet through you,” Taylor, if that’s really his name, says, rushing for me and shoving his gun into my side. “You do as I say and keep quiet, or you’ll regret it.”
My chest seizes and I can’t draw a full breath. Stars swim across my vision and I furiously try to blink them away. I stand frozen, disbelief swirling inside me as my eyes dart from Jenkins’s lifeless body to the man holding a gun to my side.
This can’t be happening.
This isn’t real.
That isn’t Jenkins on the ground.
Taylor pulls a cloth out of his pocket, and I flinch as he swipes it over the side of my face.
To wipe off the blood, I realize.
Jenkins’s blood.
Some survival instinct buried in the back of my mind reminds me that I need to calm down.
I blink and take a long breath, choking back the scream of terror that wants nothing more than to erupt from me.
I force down the panic roaring inside me just enough to function.
I push all thoughts of Jenkins aside. I can’t think about him, not yet.
If I do, I’ll break, and I can’t afford to do that with the hulking man gripping my arm and holding a gun to me.
Taylor yanks me to him and traps me against his chest. Again, panic threatens to overwhelm me, but Water’s voice echoes in the back of my mind about what to do if I’m held in this exact position.
I stomp down Taylor’s foot with my heel, and when he flinches, I manage to break his grip.
I whirl out of his grasp and race for the door, but as soon as I’m out of the room a man holding tight to Flores blocks my escape.
Taylor is behind me a second later, his gun presses to my side again, just like the man before me has a gun jutting into Flores’s ribs.
She’s not dead, I think with relief. But she’s not safe, either.
“Follow me, or she’ll be lying next to your other security guard,” Taylor growls, his disgusting breath skittering across my cheek.
If you can’t escape, comply with your attacker’s demands until we can get to you.
It’s the protocol Robert, Jenkins, Waters, and Flores all drilled into me.
With Flores’s life on the line, it’s my only option.
I don’t fight as Taylor pulls me after him toward the ballroom. When we enter, he tucks me into his side as if he’s simply helping me along—as if he doesn’t have a gun shoved against my ribcage.
A round of applause begins for whatever speaker is taking the stage, but the eyes of every attendee turn toward Taylor and me as we cross the room. But it’s not the eyes of the guests that has my stomach in knots, it’s Asher’s eyes when they meet mine.
They aren’t happy or welcoming.
No, they’re filled with shock and confusion. He subtly shakes his head, and it hits me.
I’m not meant to be here.
He isn’t expecting me.
Whatever voicemail Jenkins got, it wasn’t Asher that left it. It wasn’t Asher who sent the jet to pick us up.
Fuck.
“Mr. Langford,” Taylor says as we arrive at his table. “I have a delivery for you.” Taylor pushes me into an empty seat next to Asher; the place card says it’s meant to be Asher’s grandmother’s seat.
Taylor stands between the two of us and leans down so that both Asher and I can hear him as he speaks.
“Yegor sends his regards. You shouldn’t be surprised to know that the new security you hired for the event works for him.
Since he hasn’t been able to get you on speaking terms, he’s brought those speaking terms to you.
There are snipers stationed in this room and outside along the procession, and they are ordered to keep their rifles aimed at Ms. Hale.
If you don’t cooperate, if either of you breathe in a way Yegor disapproves of, Ms. Hale here will be taken care of swiftly. ”
Asher says nothing, but he nods curtly in understanding.
“Good. Enjoy the program. Yegor will speak to you at some point so that the two of you can come to an agreement. If you don’t accept his terms, Ms. Hale will pay the price.”
Taylor stalks off, and I reach for my watch and hit the panic button three times in quick succession. I don’t know if it will help at this point, but I don’t know what else to do.
With the eyes of the guests on us, Asher kisses me quickly on the cheek and turns his attention forward, pretending to pay attention to the Master of Ceremony who welcomes the guests.
“How did you get here?” he asks in a low voice, not looking at me.
“Jenkins said he got a voicemail from you ordering us here.”
“I didn’t call Jenkins, and I sure as hell didn’t leave him a voicemail.”
“I know that now. It was a different jet and crew that met us at the airport, but they seemed to follow all the typical protocol and said the Langford jet was flying Sterling, so we didn’t think anything of it.
He’s . . . oh god, he’s dead now. Jenkins.
” I swallow hard and take a breath to keep from hyperventilating.
I can’t keep from replaying the scene in my mind.
Jenkins’s look of annoyance that flashed into fear and surprise when he saw the gun.
The bullet piercing his flesh. The blood.
“That man, T-Taylor, killed him as soon as we got here. And another man has Flores. She’s in danger. ”
“I’ll let Robert know,” he whispers back. “But our priority is figuring out what the hell is going on.”
The audience claps, and it pulls me back to our surroundings. Asher and I clap as well, and I force a smile as I fight back tears and try to keep my panic at bay.
“What are we going to do, Asher?” I ask when the next speaker begins.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“How many new security officers did you hire?”
“Fifty.”
“How many of your regular men are here?”
“Twenty.”
Shit.
Asher and I do our best to smile and fake it through the program.
Neither of us touches our food or drink, and no matter how much I try, I can’t stop my hands from shaking.
It’s clear from the rigid postures of Declan, Sterling, Harrington, and Catherine, that they know something is going on.
I do my best to look like I’m paying attention, though, I only hear bits and pieces of what’s said.
Edward seems to have been an incredible man; the man that changed the way the Langford family operates.
The first man in over a century to admit that their family’s wealth had been created by exploiting the poor and working class.
He was the visionary who wanted to give back and right wrongs.
I can’t fully digest what’s being said, not with the constant fear churning inside me.
Not while knowing there are sniper rifles aimed at me, ready to fire on Yegor’s command if I do something out of turn or if Asher doesn’t comply.
The program passes in a blur, and soon we’re outside in the procession.
Asher grips my hand and holds me so close that there’s hardly any space between us.
We walk behind Harrington and Catherine, but Declan, Sterling, and all of Asher’s extended family are cut off from us since the two of us have been surrounded by our security—five officers I’ve never seen before.
Asher’s eyes scan the buildings, clearly looking for snipers, as we walk the two-block procession.
The road has been closed, and there are hundreds of people walking behind the Langfords.
Distributed among the crowd are more security officers I don’t recognize.
God, everyone here is in danger, and most of them have no idea.
We’ve barely begun to walk when a cold voice speaks from behind us, sending chills up my spine.
“You have been busy, Mr. Langford,” the voice says. The voice is male, deep, and has a heavy Russian accent. “But our games are done, and your time is up.”